


Mad Love

by serenelystrange



Category: Leverage
Genre: F/M, Feels, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Humor, Leverage Secret Santa Gift Exchange 2019, M/M, Multi, Training
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:56:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27397579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serenelystrange/pseuds/serenelystrange
Summary: Hardison finds himself frustrated with himself and his partners while struggling with new training. But it all works out in the end!(Alternative summary:  he gets mad, and then there's love.)Allusions to sexy times, but none described!
Relationships: Alec Hardison/Parker/Eliot Spencer
Comments: 10
Kudos: 58
Collections: Leverage Secret Santa Exchange (Mod Gifts)





	Mad Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [idkimoutofideas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/idkimoutofideas/gifts).



“Just adjust your hips a little,” Eliot says, frowning at Hardison’s sloppy form.

“Adjust your expectations,” Hardison shoots back, grumbling as he tries to arrange his body in the way Eliot is showing him.

It’s crabby of him, he admits, but they’ve already been at this over an hour and he hasn’t even gotten past positioning.

“Parker got it in five minutes,” Eliot snipes, gesturing over to where Parker is resting comfortably on the couch, watching them.

“Parker has the natural grace of a ballerina and the temper of a swan,” Hardison says, grinning over at Parker so that she knows it’s a compliment.

“Thank you!” she beams back at him, before going back to idly tapping on her knees as she watches the proceedings.

“This is why I’m the tech guy,” Hardison says, sighing. “I can’t fight. I don’t want to fight. I don’t want to break my hands, and I’m too damn pretty to get my face all messed up!”

“Are you saying I’m not pretty?” Eliot asks, smirking.

“You’re beautiful,” Hardison says, because even when he’s annoyed he can’t be purposefully cruel to Eliot. “I hate you a little bit right now, but you’re still beautiful.”

Eliot grins, and blushes, just a little. “Well then,” he says, “let me teach you how to defend yourself so that I get my pretty face punched a little less, huh?”

Hardison sighs. The bastard makes a good point.

“Fine, fine,” he says. “Teach me how to not die, Mr. Miyagi. I guess I’m pretty fond of your face not getting punched. Most of the time.”

“That’s the spirit!” Parker calls from the chair.

Eliot snickers and Hardison glares. It’s going to be a long day.

.

Many hour later, they have finally moved on to actual action, but Hardison’s not sure it’s better or worse.

“Air!” he shouts, smacking Parker’s leg where it’s wrapped around this throat.

“Good girl!” Eliot says, offering Parker a high five once she’s loosened her hold enough that Hardison can breathe again. “Cut the airway right off, that was perfect.”

“Normally,” Hardison says, panting for air as he lies on the ground once Parker has moved away, “I’d be all about getting up close and personal with your….everything. But damn it woman, I need my oxygen!”

“Then be faster,” Parker says, unbothered in the least.

“When did you suddenly become Black Widow, anyway?” Hardison asks, rubbing his throat before pausing. “Ooh, Halloween idea!”

“I could be a redhead,” Parker agrees readily enough. “You could be my Hawkeye…but I’ve seen you shoot an arrow.”

Eliot snickers from somewhere above them, but Hardison doesn’t even open his eyes to glare.

“It’s the 21st century, who uses a bow and arrow in real life anymore??”

“Hunters,” Eliot says.

“Olympic athletes,” Parker adds.

“Sophie, if you piss her off enough,” Eliot snickers.

“Poor Nate,” Parker says, not sounding very sorry at all.

Hardison just grunts from where he’s still lying still on the floor.

“You just gotta look more intimidating,” Eliot says even later, after they’ve come back to it from a dinner break.

Hardison huffs and sends Eliot a side-eyed glare.

“I’m a six foot plus black man in Trump’s America. Half this country already thinks I’m a threat just by existing.”

Eliot winces slightly, conceding the point.

“Maybe we just work on your punches. It’ll give you enough time to get away from whoever you need to without anyone getting shot. Hopefully.”

“You’re got plenty of strength,” Parker says, coming over to run her hands across Hardison’s back and down his arms. “You just need to learn to use it.”

“I use strength!” Hardison protests.

“Outside of the bedroom,” Eliot replies wryly.

Parker snickers.

“Don’t ever hear either of you complaining,” Hardison says, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Yeah, yeah,” Eliot says, reaching over to ruffle Hardison’s short hair just to annoy him.

“I think we’re done here,” Hardison says, throwing in the proverbial towel.

He walks off before the others can either protest or agree, leaving Parker and Eliot wondering if maybe they’d been teasing him too much.

It’s after midnight by the time Hardison comes back to the apartment, considerable calmer than he had been several hours before. He expects Eliot at least to already be in bed, but instead finds him and Parker both on the couch, clearly waiting for him.

They look up in unison as he comes in, closing and locking the door behind him. It’s a little creepy if he’s being honest.

“Hey,” he says, ducking his head slightly with embarrassment at having stormed off to begin with.

“Hey,” Eliot says back, in that soft voice that he usually reserves for small children or spooked animals.

“Come sit,” Parker says, moving over so that there’s a Hardison sized space between her and Eliot.

Hardison does, uncharacteristically quiet, and settles between them. Parker immediately presses in close to him, leaning slightly on his shoulder. Eliot stays where his is, a couple of inches between them, but reaches down to twine his fingers with Hardison’s.

“We were being jerks,” Parker says, butting her head against Hardison’s shoulder gently.

“Sorry,” Eliot adds. “We got carried away, it was dumb.”

Hardison just shrugs. He finds himself unable to explain why he was so upset without feeling like his throat is clenching with unshed tears.

“I know you didn’t mean anything by it,” he says after a long moment. “I just…sometimes I just feel. I don’t know how to explain it.”

“Inadequate?” Eliot asks, turning slightly to give Hardison a soft look.

It startles Hardison a little, how perceptive Eliot can be, even after all these years.

“Yeah,” he says, shaking his head. “I know it’s not true. I just... some days are hard.”

“We’d have been dead a hundred times by now without you,” Parker says. She says it simply, without a coddling tone or any pity in her face. Just the truth.

“I couldn’t even begin to do all the tech stuff you do,” Eliot adds. “I shouldn’t have expected you to be able to do everything I do.”

“You were just trying to help,” Hardison says, last of his anger melting away.

“Just want to keep you around as long as I can, man,” Eliot says, flushing slightly with the blatant emotions.

“No dying,” Parker agrees, finally taking Hardison’s other hand in both of hers and cradling them in her lap.

“No dying,” Hardison agrees.

He’s sleepy now, tucked in close between his loves, the adrenaline crash hitting him hard.

“Let’s go to bed,” he says, tugging on Eliot and Parker’s hands gently. “I’ve had enough feelings for one day.”

In the morning, Eliot will make pancakes, and Parker will steal the bacon before it cools and then resolutely refuse to admit it’s burning her mouth. Eliot will swat at her with the spatula, and she’ll dance away before he can make contact. Hardison will laugh at their antics as he wakes up, sipping from the mug of perfect coffee that Eliot’s made. And for at least a little while, everything will be perfect.

THE END


End file.
